A Deep Seated Love
Well, hello there! I’m so glad you could stop by…
This week I’m leaning in a more whimsical direction for my blog. I figured it’d be a good idea to shake it up a bit. So…“shake, shake” here it goes~
About a month ago, I found a bit of inspiration while driving to my sister’s for lunch. On the map, her home is located just inside the upper fold of farm country. As a change of pace, I chose to explore the back roads so as to take advantage of the beautiful day. The sky was crystal clear as the cows were grazing in the fields. The autumn leaves were just beginning to paint a hint of color to the surrounding landscape. It was the sort of day that I found myself breathing happy breaths, content with life.
At the far edge of a corn field sat a dilapidated love seat. It was so out of place that I glanced about half expecting to find a logical reason. Was there a hidden camera for a social experiment or perhaps a pickup truck would be seen circling back to reclaim the dropped load. There was no clue as to “why” so it remained a mystery.
The legs of the miniature sofa were submerged in the thick of clay. The contrast of light and the backdrop of empty field presented a most appealing photo opportunity. Normally I would have clicked a few shots, except I didn't have my camera with me. Interesting, I thought. I found it coincidental how that love seat was not only stuck in the mud, but that it also became stuck in my mind.
The manner for which it was dumped seemed tragic. Remove the frustration I felt surrounding the former owner failing to dispose of it properly…well, it seemed as if it were suddenly plucked away from the life that it once had known. I thought, if only that old thing could speak, I bet there was a story behind it…an abandoned love seat left in the middle of nowhere…an abandoned love left to haunt me.
So, I returned home after a pleasant visit with my sister and began to mull over the idea. I set out to compose verse intermingling love with all that was left behind. On the surface it was simply yesterday’s furniture, but if one were to dig deeper…I imagined the people, their life experiences and their feelings stranded in that field as well.
Writing is all about perspective. It’s the process of taking a sliver of… or a whole piece…a bite of… or the entire pie.
After some word play I was satisfied with the shape as it twisted into form.
So, this week for my blog, I’m leaving you with the tale I found along the way to my sister’s house. The words had fallen into a crevice right along with a handful of pocket change…just waiting for discovery along Highway 6; three blocks south of the Piggott Girl’s Roadside Produce Stand.
So here it goes…
Love Abandoned
by Trixie Archer
We used to own a love seat
Though it wasn't much to share
Aunt Maggie sent it our way
Along with spills, stains and wear.
Textured fibers, pebbled and rough
Backrest dipped, cushions sagged
Wooden legs, scratched and scuffed
Shabby appearance, nothing to brag.
We accepted that old piece,
A place to sit, to hold hands,
At the end of a long summer’s day
Passions explored beneath the fan.
She’d whisper sweet into my ear
About promises and future plans
We’d build this, buy that, make a wish
Always coaxed into believing, how we can.
That old love seat that we sat upon
Knew more than it could say
It held me close on stormy nights
Brought much comfort through the day.
Midnight babies nestled in my arms
Dirty nappies kept at bay
Stories told with love and charm
Gathered from here and far away.
The marriage fell down, the seat maintained
A solid frame, though an ugly sight
When she shrugged and left me alone
It cradled me through much fright.
It heard our shouts, felt our tears
But still maintained a loyal stance.
The battered fabric from yesterday’s storm
hemmed together by luck and chance.
When the movers came to divide our things
Half to her and half to me
The torn seat of love now abandoned
The only drawback of comforting for free.
I dragged it to the curb and bid farewell
To the broken-down eyesore it became
On second thought, I wouldn't turn my back,
from the great heart beneath plaid’s shame.
This week I’m leaning in a more whimsical direction for my blog. I figured it’d be a good idea to shake it up a bit. So…“shake, shake” here it goes~
About a month ago, I found a bit of inspiration while driving to my sister’s for lunch. On the map, her home is located just inside the upper fold of farm country. As a change of pace, I chose to explore the back roads so as to take advantage of the beautiful day. The sky was crystal clear as the cows were grazing in the fields. The autumn leaves were just beginning to paint a hint of color to the surrounding landscape. It was the sort of day that I found myself breathing happy breaths, content with life.
At the far edge of a corn field sat a dilapidated love seat. It was so out of place that I glanced about half expecting to find a logical reason. Was there a hidden camera for a social experiment or perhaps a pickup truck would be seen circling back to reclaim the dropped load. There was no clue as to “why” so it remained a mystery.
The legs of the miniature sofa were submerged in the thick of clay. The contrast of light and the backdrop of empty field presented a most appealing photo opportunity. Normally I would have clicked a few shots, except I didn't have my camera with me. Interesting, I thought. I found it coincidental how that love seat was not only stuck in the mud, but that it also became stuck in my mind.
The manner for which it was dumped seemed tragic. Remove the frustration I felt surrounding the former owner failing to dispose of it properly…well, it seemed as if it were suddenly plucked away from the life that it once had known. I thought, if only that old thing could speak, I bet there was a story behind it…an abandoned love seat left in the middle of nowhere…an abandoned love left to haunt me.
So, I returned home after a pleasant visit with my sister and began to mull over the idea. I set out to compose verse intermingling love with all that was left behind. On the surface it was simply yesterday’s furniture, but if one were to dig deeper…I imagined the people, their life experiences and their feelings stranded in that field as well.
Writing is all about perspective. It’s the process of taking a sliver of… or a whole piece…a bite of… or the entire pie.
After some word play I was satisfied with the shape as it twisted into form.
So, this week for my blog, I’m leaving you with the tale I found along the way to my sister’s house. The words had fallen into a crevice right along with a handful of pocket change…just waiting for discovery along Highway 6; three blocks south of the Piggott Girl’s Roadside Produce Stand.
So here it goes…
Love Abandoned
by Trixie Archer
We used to own a love seat
Though it wasn't much to share
Aunt Maggie sent it our way
Along with spills, stains and wear.
Textured fibers, pebbled and rough
Backrest dipped, cushions sagged
Wooden legs, scratched and scuffed
Shabby appearance, nothing to brag.
We accepted that old piece,
A place to sit, to hold hands,
At the end of a long summer’s day
Passions explored beneath the fan.
She’d whisper sweet into my ear
About promises and future plans
We’d build this, buy that, make a wish
Always coaxed into believing, how we can.
That old love seat that we sat upon
Knew more than it could say
It held me close on stormy nights
Brought much comfort through the day.
Midnight babies nestled in my arms
Dirty nappies kept at bay
Stories told with love and charm
Gathered from here and far away.
The marriage fell down, the seat maintained
A solid frame, though an ugly sight
When she shrugged and left me alone
It cradled me through much fright.
It heard our shouts, felt our tears
But still maintained a loyal stance.
The battered fabric from yesterday’s storm
hemmed together by luck and chance.
When the movers came to divide our things
Half to her and half to me
The torn seat of love now abandoned
The only drawback of comforting for free.
I dragged it to the curb and bid farewell
To the broken-down eyesore it became
On second thought, I wouldn't turn my back,
from the great heart beneath plaid’s shame.
No comments have been added yet.
